


Lover on the Train

by voleuse



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-22
Updated: 2007-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-04 03:30:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>And we'll never know if the girl on the coin is barefoot</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lover on the Train

**Author's Note:**

> Set after S3. Title and summary adapted from Victoria Chang's _Two Trains_.

After the Doctor left, Martha went back to her everyday life, with an extra helping of PTSD. Not just for herself, but for her family, like they lived in this weird bubble of anxiety that they couldn't escape.

She was used to taking care of them, so this was just history, amplified. Before, she had never wanted to scream as much.

She took Tish out for ice cream one night, and they ended up splitting a bottle of wine. It was sublimation, or something. In the back of her head, Martha heard the Doctor's voice making a horrible joke about bottles.

She took another gulp of wine, and didn't mind it was the cheap kind.

*

 

Doing rounds at work, a surgeon complimented her steady hands. She hadn't even thought about it--blood wasn't as frightening as it used to be. She smiled thanks anyway.

*

 

The best part of going back in time, Martha found, was that her apartment was completely intact, and she didn't have to buy a whole new wardrobe.

And one night, she opened the door, and Jack was reclining on her sofa, spinning an empty coffee mug in his hand.

"I considered bringing a bottle of champagne," he explained, "but you don't seem like the kind of woman to appreciate a cliché."

Martha shut the door behind her with a grin. "Not all the time, no." She unbuttoned her jacket slowly, and she liked the way Jack's gaze trailed after her fingers.

"Then I'm glad I didn't opt for the rose petals," he told her.

She hung up her jacket, and started on her shirt buttons. "That's a shame," she replied. "That would have worked on me."

By the time she finished with her shirt, Jack was kissing her. When she pulled away for breath, he smiled. "I'll remember that for next time."

*

 

Later, Jack emerged from her shower, toweling his hair dry. Martha watched him, waited for him to finish before speaking.

"You should come over to dinner tomorrow night," she said.

He sat on the bed, pressed his lips to her temple, the line of her jaw. "With your folks?"

"Hey!" She pulled away, pushed him back when he tried for another kiss. "Don't distract me." She rolled her eyes at his leer. "Yes, with my folks."

Jack sat back. His gaze went past her, and he nodded. "Yeah. I'd like that." He focused on her again, and his serious expression bled away.

"They miss you," she said. "They like you."

"How could they not?" Jack pondered, and laughing, he fended off her playful blow.


End file.
